


Alexander and John Play Dress-Up

by vintage_salem



Series: The Secret (Sexy) Lives of Alexander and John [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:59:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage_salem/pseuds/vintage_salem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John likes certain articles of clothing, and Alexander plays along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one part of a non-chronological series that centers around Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens getting freaky. Kay.
> 
> All I'm clearly concerned with right now is Alex and John being into some dirty, dirty ish. It happens!

When John Laurens thought about how the whole thing initially started, he could easily pinpoint the exact moment when Alexander Hamilton overheard something he should not have heard, pricked up his ears, and began to formulate a plan.

“ _Mon dieu_ , I require a companion in my bed. It has been too long,” sighed the Marquis de Lafayette, throwing himself down beside his companions who were seated around a makeshift table. Alexander Hamilton, sitting a little further down the table, did not look up from the letter he was scribbling with his right hand while attempting to fork meat with his left, but John and Hercules Mulligan both regarded the young Frenchman with surprise. 

“At last, our Marquis joins us,” John dryly said. “We had expected you to carry news of British movement, but it would appear he has had more essential matters on hand.”

“It seems we are all suffering from a similar affliction,” cried Lafayette, dramatically pressing the back of his hand against his eyes. “When have any of us had a maid in recent times? It has truly been a century since I’ve engaged in… _amorous congress_.” He winked at Mulligan who rolled his eyes – most likely having been the one to teach him that euphemism. John suppressed a chuckle. Their dear Marquis always had a certain theatrical flair, particularly when it pertained to romantic escapades. You could take the Frenchman out of France…

“It certainly has been a while for me,” admitted Mulligan, offering a half-hearted shrug. “And I know that our Laurens has not wet his prick in weeks so it must truly be a plague upon all of us.”

John quickly straightened as Alexander’s hand froze, quill hovering above his paper – he did not move his head but he glanced between Mulligan and John through his eyelashes. 

“What precisely do you mean?” John stammered, aware of Alexander’s dark gaze centered on him. “I fear I cannot recollect my telling you of any recent coupling or any lack thereof.” (Surely, given the circumstances, he had not let something slip to Mulligan. And now that he thought about it – if he _had_ shared more than he intended, then he certainly would not be on the receiving end of such taunts.)

“Laurens!” Mulligan laughed. “Were we not yesterday discussing the merits of a fine slim waist? Seeing a little ankle peep out of a heavy skirt? _Stockings?_ ” His head tilted back with a loud hoot. “You had more to say on the virtues of women’s underclothes than even I!” 

Lafayette joined him in laughter, both gleeful at the idea of a desperate John Laurens with only the image of a corset as comfort. John felt Alexander shoot him a small glare, but did not risk making eye contact. Would it not be better to attempt a defense rather than exposing a rather vulnerable crack in his armor? He raised his hands in protest. “That was just talk – it certainly did not indicate any hidden desire-,”

“John,” Mulligan interrupted with a raised hand and wide grin. “You had more to say on the topic of a stocking covering a trembling thigh than Hammie has ever had to say on taxation in the colonies!”

John did not dare glancing at Alexander, who he knew was scowling in their direction. But he again refused to acknowledge the small aide who still sat motionless as he listened to their conversation. After all, their relationship was more complex than John’s friendships with the Marquis and Mulligan. It was only a few months prior that he and Alexander had finally admitted their deep attraction to each other and ever since, they had the arduous task of navigating a new romantic relationship while maintaining a public illusion of simple camaraderie. 

John had never considered himself an overt romantic, but meeting that young man for the first time was truly what one would call love at first sight. Gazing into those wide eyes for the first time, seeing that crooked smile – John’s heart sped up in his chest and had since never ceased its rapid beat whenever Alexander crossed his path.

Alexander immediately slipped into his life – upon their first meeting, they were inseparable allies. Even General George Washington had drily commented that Alexander must have some Southern lineage for who else but brothers could be so close. (That moment was still the only example John could give of their General joking around.) 

And that night of ardent confession had been glorious. It was close to midnight, and Alexander had been sitting at his desk, his only company being a single candle to write by. John had approached him, armed with a weak excuse of a new missive needing to be written when in truth, all he wanted to do was to be beside the young aide. But as he drew closer, Alexander had looked up and that face, slightly startled and illuminated by that single flame, was just so _beautiful_ that John could barely breathe.

No words were needed – they both understood why the room’s atmosphere suddenly thickened with some potential promise. John had knelt by Alexander, stroked his cheek, and kissed him. Alexander responded eagerly, hands flying up to grasp John’s shoulders and mouth opening to accommodate John’s. They took advantage that night of their shared quarters (John had never been a religious man, but he now thanked God every night for that coincidence) to revel in their newly unleashed secret and learn each other’s bodies – John would always remember how he made Alexander Hamilton squeal using only his index finger. 

Since then, John had the very unique, very momentous privilege of being Alexander Hamilton’s beloved. He had always found beauty with both women and men, and even though he had previously only dealt with the attraction to the latter with lingering glances and furtive touches, Alexander stomped into his life and uprooted it all. Now John’s entire being centered around this vivacious imp.

But they were still in a dangerous war, and they could still be hanged for this relationship. A façade of simple friendship was necessary, and with that came certain difficult situations – like the one in which John currently found himself. Yes, he might have spoken too freely with Mulligan. But it certainly was unfair that this one conversation was the one topic Lafayette decided must be addressed.

John certainly did not crave women (whatever lingering desires he had for them instantly disappeared the first time Alexander removed his breeches and spread his legs for John), but one would be a complete liar to say that there was not something so delightfully erotic in touching their very different, complex garments. Slipping off a silk stocking from a soft leg felt deliciously wicked, as if he were unwrapping a forbidden present. Seeing the swell of a bosom held tightly beneath tight satin…even just grazing a corset, that rigid whalebone shell protecting the softest of interiors, held a certain fascination for him. But whatever allure those fabrics held paled starkly against the passionate vibrancy of one particular man from the West Indies.

“Oh now,” Mulligan tutted. “It seems like Alexander has too delicate a constitution for such talk.” Lafayette responded with an even louder laugh, and even John cracked a smile. To describe Alexander’s personality as “delicate” would be a clear sign of idiocy. (Although those fingers…those magical, nimble fingers could be _very_ delicate indeed.)

“Hammie is just upset that ladies keep overlooking him for finer gentlemen. I have not seen the tomcat come out in weeks!” Lafayette teased, pinching Alexander’s cheek. Alexander scowled, and Mulligan laughed at the young man, clearly mistaking Hamilton’s jealous expression for one of frustration. (Little did Mulligan know that John had brought Alexander to release twice the night before – once in John’s mouth, the second in John’s hand. He was delightfully wrecked after the second and allowed John to spend on his flushed face. John had been partly stiff all day with that image of a panting Alexander streaked with ejaculate branded into his memory.)

Alexander’s cheeks had become a ruddy red and his nostrils were flaring, clear indications for one of two events: Alexander was about to either release in his breeches or burst into a heated tirade. John was betting on the latter, but neither would be suitable for this company. Mulligan and Lafayette seemed perfectly content to continue joking about their frustrations at the table. So it was up to John to gracefully remove Alexander from their presence.

“Well, my dear men,” he declared, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I admit now to you that it has been some time since I last bedded a giggling girl. But surely there is no plague that haunts us! The ladies are just overwhelmed from our bloody tales of war. Surely once we win against the British, we will win against their refined sensibilities!” Sometimes it was essential to match this bravado for the sake of maintaining appearances, even if it meant Alexander twisting his lips in disdain.

He moved to leave as Lafayette cheered. Mulligan raised his wine glass as a toast. “To conquering _all_ ,” he leered, and John joined Lafayette in laughter. Alexander had set down his quill to stare down at his letter, chewing on his lips as if he were literally eating his own words. John needed to remove him.

“Alexander,” he added as he stepped away from the table, almost as if it were an afterthought. “Did the General not request your presence for a new translation? You have surely kept him waiting.”

Alexander’s sardonic expression showed he in no way fell for John’s lie, but as Mulligan and Lafayette did not respond (their new topic of lewd stories of pretty bedmates seemed much more interesting than the daily tasks of an aide-de-camp), he gathered his papers and ink. He followed John silently back to their quarters, their friends laughing in the distance. Neither Mulligan nor Lafayette noticed that Alexander continued to follow John rather than turn for Washington’s headquarters.

 

“Do you really long for that?” Alexander demanded once the door behind them fully shut. He was never one to navigate subtly a topic when he could rather storm in instead. And that topic over dinner was by no means going to be brushed aside.

“Miss what?” John knew he was dealing with a master wordsmith, but by God, he was no weakling himself. He could put Hamilton through his paces.

Alexander shifted his weight between his feet, but did not look away from John. He wore a glowering expression. Had not John been so aware of why he was upset, he would have found the expression to be endearing, like a little jealous wood nymph of Ancient Greek myths. 

“Were we not at the same meal together just now? I think you know exactly the topic to which I refer.”

“Could it be Gilbert’s reign of romantic frustration?” John adopted a thoughtful expression, placing a fist to his chin as he looked upwards. He bit back a smile as he heard an exasperated huff – Alexander had always been prone to taking a jest too seriously. 

“Women, John!” Alexander threw up his hands in frustration. “You miss women and their sweet kisses and their fine clothing, and I no longer hold your interest.”

““Alex,” soothed John and despite Alexander’s bristling at the diminutive, softly kissed his temple.

“I.” Kissed his forehead.

“Only.” Next that sharp nose.

“Desire.” And now his rosy cheek.

“You.” Quick peck on the lips.

Alexander grimaced. “But just before, you _said_ -,”

“There is something stirring, yes, about women’s attire,” John explained, nuzzling into Alexander’s warm neck. “The way it is all so laced up, such an ordeal to remove…knowing that warm flesh is secreted away underneath all those fabrics…certainly anyone can see how tantalizing it can be.” He could feel Alexander swallow and softly pressed his lips against that protrusion in his throat that clearly indicated Alexander’s status as a man.

“But that is the only thing I miss about the fairer sex,” John continued. “I promise… _this_ is the only piece that peaks my interest these days,” With that, he gently cupped Alexander’s groin, and Alexander let out a squeak. 

“Come,” purred John, “let me take you to bed.” His hold on Alexander’s stiffening manhood briefly tightened and to his delight, Alexander’s breath hitched. “Let me love you like a man.” 

Alexander, now with reddened cheeks for an entirely different reason then before, allowed John to pull him towards the bed where John showed him just how much he desired him. 

But of course, John should have known that Alexander was never one to forget. He really should not have been so surprised with the next week’s events. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Alexander did not re-address the subject upon waking. Instead he quickly removed himself from John’s bed and was fully outfitted before John had even rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He left after pressing his lips fleetingly on John’s cheek, already mumbling out loud to himself and leaving John alone to dress.

Bleary-eyed, John managed to swing himself from bed and find clean clothes in the chaos that made up their shared quarters – Alexander might be a genius orator, but good Lord, was he _messy_. John finally found his cravat in between Alexander’s own mattress and spindly bedframe ( _that_ might have been John’s fault – he had discovered about a week ago that there was something very nice about having Alexander tied up and moaning beneath him, and the cravat certainly helped with that), and proceeded to leave, tie in hand.

Upon approaching the tables where hot coffee was being distributed, he found Alexander, where he sat pen in hand with Mulligan nibbling on salted pork beside him. 

As John sat down, he was heartened to find that the prior night’s conversation was not being continued. Mulligan quipped once that Alexander seemed more relaxed than the prior night (“What, did our little scholar finally put down his book and find some bed to join while we all slept in defeat?”) but Alexander only smirked and gave a halfhearted shrug before turning his attention completely to the new pamphlet in front of him. John inwardly grinned at that observation – Alexander certainly had found some bed to join last night and had been brought to literal tears as John languidly suckled his cock, fondling his velvety sac and softly tracing a finger around his tight hole.

Mulligan then turned to John with a question about an upcoming textile transport, and the two men made light conversation until Mulligan finished his meal.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, John so caught up in his own efforts that he did not even register until evening that he had not seen Alexander since that morning. 

Lafayette wondered aloud where the fourth member of their little collective was only to be met with Mulligan’s shrug. “You know Ham, if he is not moving, he is probably dead.”

As Lafayette nodded in agreement, John could not help not wonder as to where Alexander had actually gone. He always kept busy, but usually one could find him dashing from one place to another, papers in hand and pointed hat tilted perilously on his head. In fact, _not_ seeing him all day was more concerning – as his detractors would frequently mutter to themselves, Alexander certainly made his presence known at all times. If he were not already in the forefront of the scene, he would be itching on the sidelines ready to jump in at the next possible moment.

John left their table and headed to his quarters with a feeling of unease. Surprisingly no one had tasked him with any errands – he looked forward to resting his feet and finding his tempestuous lover.

“Alexander?” called John as he ducked into their quarters. “Alexander, are you-,”

Oh.

Then a soft command: “Bar the entrance, monsieur.” 

Well, he certainly found his Alexander.

Mouth falling open, John stared at the lone semi-nude figure before him who brazenly returned his gaze. It was Alexander, but not in his ordinary apparel of blue overcoats and white breeches. No… _this_ Alexander seemed to have raided a local wench’s wardrobe and stolen only her undergarments. Which he now wore in a perverse interpretation of a town maiden. 

He let his gaze wander starting at Alexander’s feet upwards. Delicate black heeled shoes covered his feet. His well-formed legs were coyly bent like a young milkmaid enticing a lucky farmhand, with sheer stockings covering those slender calves. They ended - _oh!_ \- mid-thigh, held up by an intricate garter belt slung around those slim hips. Making the image jarringly masculine against the feminine costume was his swollen penis, pink and full, jutting out from under the thin belt. 

But still, there was more to see beyond those trim legs and stiff slender cock - Alexander never went halfway with anything, and apparently he took this task just as seriously as he took his letters to deliver.

A simple corset with a ribbon trim pulled in his waist, giving him a startlingly feminine curvature. The corset ended right at his chest where obviously there was no heaving bosom underneath, but even that hint of dusky nipple peeking out from the corset’s edge caused John to shift uncomfortably in his tight breeches. 

Finally his hair – oh, that glorious hair, usually tidily plaited back at the base of his neck. John had to fight the urge to grab a handful of those thick dark locks, now falling loose and luxuriant around his shoulders, and just _pull_. He wanted to make him squeak like the beautiful whore he now looked like. (Alexander must have bitten his lips and pinched his cheeks because despite those clothes, there was no way he could have acquired _rouge_ to highlight those full rosy lips, now twisted in a mischievous grin.)

Alexander just smirked and spun slightly, allowing John to admire those shapely calves and his firm rear just visible below the garter belt. John jolted forward as Alexander wiggled his pert behind– he had to stop himself from just grabbing those thighs and just biting down on that round ass.

“Do you approve, Monsieur Laurens?” Alexander breathed coquettishly, turning back and bending his knees in a mock curtsy. His balls, so small and pink, swung enticingly between his legs as he dipped before John.

“ _Hnngh_ …” John’s throat had so constricted he was unable to speak. He somehow managed to let down a strangled groan because Alexander’s impish smile broadened.

“Would you like to touch me, sir?”

Yes, John wanted that very much. He had never before imagined a man in such garb in such an intimate situation. And once again, there came Alexander blustering through whatever norms he had previously established and upheaving any sense of tradition. And once again, Alexander reset the standard of any future interaction John would hope to have.

John moved closer and ran his hands across that cool corset, Alexander’s warm skin just above it. He dragged his fingers down to the garter belt, tracing where the stocking’s edge just met his thigh (good Lord, was Alexander trembling? Was _he_ trembling himself?), and then back up to that slim waist made even narrower with the bone ridging along the corset.

"Is this uncomfortable?" John asked, now holding Alexander’s waist now with both hands as if Alexander were a rare specimen that needed hands and eyes on him at all times (a simile that actually might be accurate).

Alexander shook his head, thick hair silkily tossing behind him. “Not particularly.”

He paused before peering up at John through those obscenely long lashes. _Surely_ he knew that John was now desperately trying to shift his weight and accommodate his swollen manhood, to wet his suddenly dry mouth, to restrain himself from shoving Alexander onto the bed and forcing his way deep inside him? 

Perhaps you would like to divest me of such clothing?” Alexander purred, clearly enjoying John’s dazed silence.

John swallowed audibly. Did he not just say yesterday that he had enjoyed unlacing those complicated clasps, pulling down a stocking to reveal a bare leg? But now, seeing Alexander in such a state…he had put so much effort into procuring this outfit, and he looked so exquisite. It would be a shame to erase such a pleasing image when it came together so perfectly right in front of him.

It would only do to be honest. "I would like it if you kept it on...the stockings too..."

He had already confirmed that he end up in hell when he first kissed Alexander that silent night – one more sinful act would not get him there any faster. And Alexander needed to be ravished…

Alexander only let out a delighted laugh, and gently clasping John’s hips, pushed him backwards so that he fell back with a huff onto his bed. Alexander stood in front of him, hip cocked out in a rather good impression of a French prostitute (John did not feel it necessary to share that comparison with him – some things, like weekend trips to Paris during one’s time spent abroad at a Swiss boarding school, should be kept private). 

Balancing surprisingly well on those delicate heels, Alexander deftly unlaced John’s breeches and yanked them to his knees. He then knelt in between John’s legs and slowly dragged his tongue from the base of John’s manhood to its very tip. John had to clap a hand over his mouth to silence the loud groan as Alexander gently lapped at his leaking slit.

Alexander turned his head slightly, cupping his mouth over the top of John’s cock and exhaling. John gulped as the rush of hot air blew over him. He wanted to pull Alexander’s head down and fuck his mouth, but then Alexander sucked the entire length into his hot mouth and John lost all semblance of responsibility. His body tensed as he tried to spread his legs past the constriction of his breeches, now pulling around his calves, to accommodate the man kneeling between them. Movement stifled, he tilted his hips upwards, moving deeper into that wet mouth.

“Your mouth is magnificent,” John whispered, fingertip tracing the line of Alexander’s bottom lip as Alexander swirled his tongue around the broad head of John’s manhood. Alexander gave a forceful suck with that, and John jerked with a sharp cry of pleasure. White sparkles flashed across his vision as he slumped backwards onto his elbows with Alexander taking him even deeper into his mouth. 

Then he felt a soft tugging on his balls, and the dual sensation of gentle tickling and tight sucking forced a low whine out of him. 

“Alex…if you do not stop…” He could not get the rest of the warning out.

And Alexander understood and removed his mouth with a quiet _pop_. An inelegant line of thick saliva ran from his chin to John’s cock, and he stared at John, now panting hard on the bed. 

“Let me mount you,” he murmured, leaning back on those heels. Staring into those lustful eyes, John could only nod vigorously in agreement.

As John fumblingly kicked off his shoes and pants and shifted back onto the mattress, Alexander leaned over to pull out a small pot from below the bed. Seeing that container only caused John’s cock to throb harder – he knew exactly what was about to take place when that container made an appearance. 

His shirt, forgotten in his haste to remove his breeches, stuck to his back with perspiration as Alexander opened the pot and dipped his fingers into that oily substance. He carefully slid his oiled hand up and down John’s member, lightly squeezing at its tip. John groaned as Alexander allowed him to fuck upwards into that tight grasp, hips haltingly thrusting upwards into air and sweat beading at his temples.

Suddenly Alexander removed his hands - John could only gasp at the loss of sensation when Alexander straddled his hips. His erect cock pointed upwards towards his sharp nose, while his hole rubbed against John’s slick manhood.

“Careful, Alex…” gasped John. “Let me…”

He moved his hand to trace Alexander’s entrance but was rewarded with a light batting away. 

“Let _me_ , sir…” Alexander whispered and swiftly moved his oil-slicked hand behind him. John could not see what precisely he was doing, but he had a good sense from Alexander’s furrowed brow and bitten lip. As Alexander let out a soft groan, his entire arm rhythmically moving behind him, John was suddenly overwhelmed with love for the young man above him. Those slim hips constricted by the garter belt and rutting into John’s stomach, his erect penis bouncing against the cool corset, his feet in those little shoes – all of which he had done to please John. All of which he had done with the intention of making John smile. (And perhaps with the secondary intention of reminding John that one does not simply rebuff Alexander Hamilton’s amorous advances. He always was a competitive one.)

“John…now…enter me,” Alexander panted, cheeks and lips and throat flushed feverishly as he continued to stimulate himself from behind. John would need to tell him later that voice alone could bring someone to completion – he already had to grit his teeth against succumbing to that soft lilt. Right now, all he could do was lift Alexander slightly up with one hand, allowing Alexander to remove his own fingers with a groan, as he carefully guided the head of his thick penis to Alexander’s puckered entrance.  


He slowly sunk into Alexander’s tight anus inch by inch, his teeth most likely leaving permanent marks from biting down on his lip too harshly. Alexander grimaced as he spread both hands on John’s chest, adjusting to the new sensation. He tensed, and then shook his head sharply as he tried to relax into what John’s doing.

John did his best to stay still, soothingly rubbing his hands up and down Alexander’s legs. “Breathe, love…just breathe…”

Alexander played his weight front to back, gradually establishing a real rhythm on John's cock. John let him establish the pace, his muscles clenched tightly to prevent himself from wantonly thrusting upwards and hurting the slimmer man.

John knew that feeling, how the pleasure from being penetrated could be so exquisite that it was almost indivisible from sheer agony. He paused briefly, looking at Alexander’s tight face. Careful not to move his hips, he grunted as Alexander shifted around his cock. The tight heat surrounding it was almost overwhelming – John had to curl his toes into the mattress to prevent himself from thrusting upwards with abandon.

Suddenly Alexander adjusted and let out a sharp cry of pleasure. He tilted forwards, his expression transforming from grimace to gratification, and John knew he had hit that pleasurable spot deep inside of him. He gave an experiment thrust upwards, and Alexander responded with another satisfied groan.

John huffed a small laugh and pitched his hips upward into the tight sensation – he was rewarded by a soft mewling as Alexander shifted his hips alongside John’s thrusts. Alexander blinked sweat out of his eyes, biting his bottom lip to stifle the whimpers emitting from his throat. John’s body shifted upwards into the slim man above him, thrusting each stroke carefully until the two of them rocked together smoothly. Alexander stared down into John’s face, eyes wide and hair loose. There was no struggle in keeping his own eyes open – every small expression Alexander made, every whimper, every muscle tensing under that garter, every toss of that soft hair needed to be witnessed and recorded away in John’s memory.  


As that velvety heat moved up and down his stiff cock, John grasped Alexander’s manhood and lightly squeezed. Fluid leaked out of the tip onto his hand, and he slowly rubbed the fluid around the head of his cock. Alexander whined, swiveling his hips up and down, trying to cheat more sensation from John’s cock inside him and John’s hand upon him. 

“Christ,” he whispered.

“I know,” John said on a sharp exhale. He grabbed Alexander’s thigh with his other hand, feeling perspiration through the stocking, as he fucked upwards. 

“I can’t…oh God… _there_ ,” Alexander groaned. His head tilted sideways, sweat trickling down his neck, as John repeatedly thrust against that sweet internal bundle of nerves.

“Come for me,” John muttered roughly, his hand tugging at Alexander’s manhood, more fluid dribbling onto it. “I can feel you getting close…”

He paused his jerks upwards to pull at Alexander’s cock, and Alexander’s rapturous expression turned into a much too familiar scowl. “If you dare stop…”

He ground his hips down as a final pronouncement to his sentence. John grunted in response and aimed his hips upwards once again in that wet heat. Alexander groaned in response much to his gratification.

“John,” Alexander whispered, and then more sharply, “John.” His eyes squeezed tightly, that now familiar expression of complete ardor taking over his face, and John clasped those hips rocking above him with one hand. He increased his speed on Alexander’s penis as the smaller man bounced on top of him.

“Alex…you can…” he grunted.

“ _Oh!_ ”

With a cry, Alexander lurched forward, hands coming down to clutch John’s chest and eyes flying open, as his semen striped upwards onto that corset almost up to his neck, and then with one helpless pulse weakly falling onto John’s now damp shirt.

Seeing Alexander struggle to catch his breath against the constricting corset, those elegant fingers scrabbling for stability against John’s sweat-slicked top, that thick loose hair now curling against his damp forehead – it was too much. John grabbed those slender hips and gave one last shove upwards into that tight body. That drew him over the edge, and he released hard inside Alexander.

“Oh God, oh God,” he gasped, his breath sobbing out through his parted lips as ejaculate spurted deep inside the slumped man on top of him. He could barely register Alexander pulling himself from John and falling limply beside him – his breath came out in harsh gasps as his cock gave a final twitch.

Both men lay breathing heavily on the bed as their pulses came down from their intense lovemaking. Finally Alexander coughed lightly, and John moved his head to see Alexander fumbling with the corset lacings. _Christ_ , he looked debaucherous in that get-up, sweat beading down his flushed skin as he attempted to remove the corset.

"Unlace me, John." Alexander rolled over, turning his back to John, and began wriggling out of the stockings and heeled shoes. Seeing the white ejaculate dribbling from his rear caused John’s cock to twitch painfully, and he had to drag his eyes away to the proffered task at hand – he needed at least some period of recovery, however much he longed to stuff Alexander back up with his release. (And would that not be the most wonderful thing…to fuck Alexander already full of his semen, to fuck him raw…but such things could wait.)

John loosened the strings at the back of the corset, and Alexander pulled it forward, letting it tumble to the floor. Finally naked, he slumped back onto the bed, and John traced his fingers with reverence along the indentations the corset had left on Alexander’s stomach. He knew that he must look a mess – shirt stained with release and perspiration, breeches pulling around his ankles. But Alexander lay there naked and panting beside him, and such things deserved greater prioritization. 

Alexander peeked at him, his eyes crinkling from that small smile. His face was rosy red, his hair damp around his neck. He looked ravishing.

“What do we tell our companions should they stumble upon this clothing?”

Alexander’s mischievous grin returned. “Did Mulligan not assume this morning that I found a bed companion? Surely this will confirm his suspicions!”

“In that case,” John teased, “It would only be right to keep the corset. To prevent any unseemly accusations spread about your character, of course.”

Alexander’s delighted giggle was all the response he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the endless historical inaccuracies - I would say I'm 100% sure this never happened, but hey, given what I know about these ones, I'm probably more like 92% sure. 
> 
> Again this is part of a (non-serious, non-chronological, non-angsty) series of fics centered on Alex and John fun times. If there's anything you think Alex and John _really_ ought to get up to, let me know! Would love to accommodate!


End file.
